Chopping and Changing
by Krazyk85
Summary: *Sequel* Some things don't change, like their crazy and obsessive love, but when threatened by a man motivated by power and money, they do what they do best and that's survive. No longer on the run from the law, they make their own laws now. Brutal and forceful with their desires, killing is only part of the thrill. ExB, BPOV, HEA, Guns, Violence, Lemons, Darkella and her Darkward
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Welcome back! This is the sequel to Chop and Change (just in case you're new and clicked on before reading the first fic) There is a ****TRIGGER WARNING**** to this story, and the first and last one I'll issue, so please don't overlook the clause. There will be ****killing, violence, guns, drugs, sex, more sex, and rock & roll.**** This will be ten times more brutal and crazier than C&C and if **_**that**_** story was pushing you past your comfort zone, do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT fucking read this fic! It's ****Darkella**** and ****Darkward**** from beginning to end. If you want redemption for these two or for them to repent for their sins, seek it elsewhere. ****You've been warned****. If you're still down to ride with me after all that, all I can say is: Let's fucking do this shit! **

**-Before the Chop-**

The mariachi music floated up into the dense cloud of cigarette smoke. The two were like lovers, rolling and mixing together as one. The tequila in heavy rotation was the mistress. She was the temptation and destruction. Men and women alike had fallen victim to its warm embrace and charming presence. It fogged the brain and lowered inhibitions. This was the predator's weapon and young American girls were their prey.

I was sent my fifth shot from the gentlemen at the end of the bar.

They targeted me the moment I walked into a little cantina on the rough outskirts of Rocky Point. This town used to be a tourist destination. College kids flooded the streets at night, families waddled in the ocean at day, but things have changed drastically over the past ten years. The drug cartel moved in and had taken over most towns in Mexico. They put fear into the residents with brutal and merciless force.

These low class two-bits, the dumb and sloppy kind with the primo drugs, were our prey.

And so I drank my shots and danced to the beat, my short skirt hiking up on my thighs, higher and higher with every sway of my hips. The music moved me across the room and to the center of the floor. I was on display, but more importantly, I was alone.

Thirty minutes ago my boyfriend and I had a fight. I stormed out into the night, hitting up the first bar, distraught, angry, and looking to get back at him. Everyone within a twenty-foot earshot of me heard all about my sad, heartbroken, and jilted story. The Tequila flowed in abundance and eased my pain. There were plenty of men in here with dark intentions and deceiving eyes, willing to supply the demand and take my boyfriend's place.

But I wanted one man.

_Juan, Juan, my lucky John._

He watched me from his spot at the bar, and the louder and drunker I got the more shots he would buy me—make that a double for the bitch pussy. I could barely stand in my five-inch stilettos. My balance was losing the battle against alcohol and gravity. When I was primed for abduction, he made his way over to me with a slither.

"Hola, Bonita."

The accent was thick and his grip was rough. He spoke Spanish into my ear, expecting me not to understand, but I understood every fucking syllable. He told me how white girls like me were stupid and worthless. They were only good for one thing and one thing only.

My stomach turned and revolted. I played it off as attraction.

_Fight hard_, he begged me, but with this much tequila flowing through my veins, he didn't want a fight. He wanted a girl physically weak and mentally submissive when he raped and killed her.

I slumped into his chest, mumbling about my boyfriend and how much I missed him. Juan, Juan, my fucking John, cackled something awful. It was a sick taunt. He knew that I'd never see my boyfriend again. I would never see anyone again.

Putting his long, smarmy arms around my waist, he pulled me off the dance floor and out towards the back exit. Five men stood up to join us, but he waved them off. This was Juan's crew and they shared everything: drugs, money, cars, women, and so on. White bitches, especially, were their favorite.

But tonight was different. Juan was being greedy. He'd smelled something pure, _special_, with a touch of virginal innocence about me. He wanted this shiny, new toy all to himself, over and over again, until it was used up and faded. And then later, after my eyes had lost their light, he would call up his boys to come and help him get rid of my body in the desert.

"Ah, la chingada." He grunted, dragging my semi-unconscious body out the back door. It slammed and locked behind him, echoing off the brick walls. The sound was like the final nail in a coffin, loud and definitive.

Propping me up against the door of his car, he dug through his pockets looking for the keys. My head lolled from side to side and my legs wobbled beneath me, but I was in control. He was foolish and arrogant, too preoccupied with his future kill to recognize the danger that stood in the corner, cloaked in the shadows, or the simple movement of my hand as it slipped inside my purse.

"Juan, Juan," I sang off-key and with a playful tenor, "my silly John."

"¡Cállate!" he yelled, slapping me hard across the face. It stung, and the force knocked me sideways, but I rebounded without pause, righting myself. I shook my head at my protector, warding him off. These dark, impulsive green eyes locked with mine, unrelenting and wanting to intervene, but stopped at my insistence and took a step back, keeping his existence unknown.

This catch was mine, and I loved taking the hook out of the gill very,_ very_ fucking slowly.

"Or what?" There was no drunken slur in my voice as I jabbed a 9mm into his side.

"¿Que chingados!?" He shot his gaze down at me, confused by the sudden change in my lucidity and the blunt object pressing, forcefully, into his fucking spleen. The Spanish was fluent and pissing out of his mouth, mostly questions about me and why wasn't I passed out. He saw me drink all those tequilas. It didn't make sense.

"It's all about knowing your bartender, Juan," I said with a smile, but it was directed at the man who stood a foot away with a Colt, shiny and reflective, pointed at the back of this motherfucker's head. "You can speak English now. I know you know how."

"What do you want, bitch?" he said, spitting at me. Filthy and disgusting as it was, and even though it pissed Edward off every time, I was used to it. These fuckers were always slinging loogies at me. They hated the fact that a little white girl like me got the best of them.

"Your drugs, what else?" I shrugged with indifference, but it mattered. Juan and his crew had acquired some good fucking coke. It was pure cut and worth over five hundred thousand American dollars, not this peso shit.

"You want my drugs?" Eyeing me close, he determined I wasn't a threat to him.

I was just a tiny, little girl with a big ol' gun. It wouldn't take much to overpower and unarm someone like me. This was what they all thought.

"Traga mi leche, puta!" He spat in my face, kicking dirt up with his boot, and then, like they always do, he went for my gun.

I swung away from him, already anticipating his move. The tequila was far more concentrated in his blood stream so he wasn't coordinated, only managing to grasp the bottom of my shirt. He raised his hand, trying to slap me again, but my reflexes were on point and I ducked. The missed momentum had spun him around and he went face first into the door of his car. My Glock was cocked and pressed into his back within a nanosecond, and he had no chance of regaining control now, but Edward had seen enough. The degrading language and the red hand print deepening on my cheek were too much for him.

Old habits die hard.

"All right, I can't take this shit, anymore," Edward said, snatching the keys from Juan and opening the trunk.

"I had everything under control," I said, taking a fistful of Juan's shirt and pulling him off the car. I nudged my gun between his shoulder blades, pushing him to walk forward and he complied, shuffling towards the rear of the car.

"Yeah," Edward said, reaching out and palming the side of my face. It was a gentle touch, but the sting throbbed and I winced. The grinding of his teeth irked me. "I can fucking see that!"

He exuded energy, a possessive and territorial rage, and I felt it deep in my bones. It was hard to ignore, and of course, it turned me into that seventeen year old girl again, blushing and crushing on the older guy who was no good for her.

"You set me up, Cabron," Juan said, glaring back at me. He was disgusted for giving into the sweet, young bait. It dawned on him now that waving off his guys was a big fucking mistake.

Edward pointed the Colt between his eyes while I zip-tied his hands behind his back. "You should've sold your supply to Marcus."

"Fuck, Marcus!" He spat on the ground, showing his disrespect. "That puta don't own me."

"No, maybe not, but he sure as shit owns your drugs," Edward said, grabbing him by the collar of the shirt and throwing him into the trunk.

Juan landed hard, the car creaking and bouncing under his weight. There was an epiphany in his eyes or a vision of the future, but he saw where this was going. He knew we were going to kill him once we were in possession of his coke…but he was wrong about that.

We were going to kill him first.

The music inside was loud, masking his pleads for help, and about five young girls with blonde hair and short skirts, courtesy of Edward, were keeping his boys occupied. There was no one here to save him or hear the sound of a gun going off. The back alley was isolated from people walking by, perfect conditions for killing a fucking predator and rapist like Juan, Juan, my soon to be dead John.

Edward leaned his forehead on his hand that rested on the trunk latch. "Man," he said, a bit wistful, watching Juan thrashing around, spewing out empty threats. He titled his head to the side to look at me, a coy, playful smile on his lips. "I love it when they do this shit. Cooperation is overrated."

"I couldn't agree more, baby," I said, bending over and getting face to face with him. I had no pity for this man. "Fight hard, puta."

"Do you want to do the honors, Kid?" He held out his Colt to me.

I shook my head, flashing him my Glock. "I've got my own."

"Right," he said, stepping back and giving me room to stand directly above our squirming hostage.

I widened my stance and pointed the gun. He fought, kicking and tossing his body against the walls of the trunk, hoping to be a difficult target for me to hit, but my aim was excellent with almost hundred percent accuracy. It was the one thing I'd been working hard on perfecting. Edward was still a better shot and liked to remind me on a daily basis.

"Would you like me to do it for ya?" He grabbed my waist with a firm grip and positioned himself directly behind me. I could feel his heart pounding on my back as he leaned in, whispering into my ear. "I never miss."

See, fucking prick!

"Well, Mr. Cullen," I said, shrugging him off and rolling my thumb over the safety, flicking it up, "things are about to change."

"Is that so, Mrs. Cullen?" He squeezed me harder, painfully and maddening, thrusting his hips forward and knocking me off my balance. It was a distraction. It wasn't going to work. Not this time.

"Yeah, it is," Turning my head around to face him, I smirked, "and I'll fucking prove it to you." Then I kissed him in such a way that distracted us both, but not me. I was focused and determined with my aim still on Juan, following his panicked voice as he screamed for help, pleading and begging for us to spare his life. And just as Edward upped his game, nibbling on my bottom lip and sucking it into his beautiful mouth, I pulled that fucking trigger...

I didn't miss.

***Translation* **

"_**Traga mi leche, puta" - Swallow my cum, slut (or whore or bitch) **_

**A/N: The update schedule for this fic is going to be every Friday. I hope to see ya there. The next choppy kick-starts the story and continues where C&C left off. Until then, babes! I love ya, and I can't wait to get back into this wacky world of Kid and Chopward.**

**Thanks to Brina for sticking with me and this story. She's amazing, and her pimping skills go above and beyond. I hope to never disappoint you. **


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**-Chapter One-**

Every girl dreams about her boyfriend proposing to her. They want to be given flowers and asked over a candlelit dinner, maybe there's a ring hidden in a glass of champagne. The details vary, depending on the girl, but one thing always stays true and that's the bended knee. It was the hallmark of all proposals. The man submits himself to his future bride and asks, "Will you marry me?"

They give their girl a choice, putting their heart on the line.

Edward didn't give a fuck about that. There were no flashy sentiments or declaration of love. He didn't even ask. The paper with his scribbled handwriting had no question mark at the end. It was a flat out, no nonsense statement: marry me.

That shit was a demand, not a request.

And there was no way in hell he was getting on bended knee. For one, he wouldn't get down there unless my legs were wrapped around his neck, and two, how would he coerce our hostages into doing his bidding without his gun pointed in their faces? They were his puppets, whose lives were dependent on their cooperation—even though they were dead the moment he shoved them into Tanya's trunk.

This guy, with his twisted mind and endless tattoos, was a psychotic killer. It was as simple as that. He was dangerous and deadly. A grin so crooked and sexy, you knew no good would come from being with him. What girl in their right mind would find the kidnapping of her parents to be used as tool in her proposal as romantic?

Me, Isabella Marie Swan, that's who…but then again, I wasn't exactly a normal girl, and those two assholes bound and gagged in the trunk weren't fucking parents. The least they could do before we killed them was make my day special and unique.

They owed me that much.

"What do you say, Kid?" Edward had the muzzle of his gun pressed and flushed to Renee's forehead, his finger hovering and twitching over the trigger, but all of his care and focus was on me. My heart picked up the beat, thump, thump, and another pounding, erratic, so manic thump. "You wanna make this shit official?"

That smirk he wore so well was my undoing. There was no shortage of confidence in his bones. He'd always known my answer. That's why it wasn't even a question, more rhetorical than anything else, but I wanted to answer him out loud, validating it.

I needed the universe to hear it.

"Fuck yeah, I do!" That was my not-so-eloquent response as I jumped into his arms without warning.

"Whoa!" It threw him off his balance and he went stumbling back. He stared up at me, smiling and laughing at my zest for the dramatics. I couldn't stop looking at his eyes. They were this light, almost sage, green with flecks of gold at the outer corners. The sun made the unique characteristic more prominent and breathtaking. Just like it did with the red strands in his brown hair.

And to think, this beautiful Irish boy with the rough edges and even a rougher touch was going to be my husband.

I kissed him then, as hard as I could, my lips pressed to his and recklessly blind. I was smothering him, unable to get enough of his taste of nicotine and peppermint. Edward stunned by the sudden assault snapped to attention and returned in kind. He held my face, easing himself back and slowing me down. It only made me that more needy. I shifted my weight and wrapped my arms around his neck. Persuasive in my pursuit, I pressed my tongue against his mouth, beseeching and pleading for him to grant me this one demand. Incapable of denying me my wants, he folded like a deck of cards. Only he raised the ante, and his kisses were ruthless, unabated, and dangerous. They led me to want him in ways that weren't appropriate for the current audience…although, one swift movement of a hand and that trunk could be closed.

_Fuck it, let em' suffocate._

"Easy," Edward said, leaning his back and putting the brakes on this speeding car. He was smirking up at me, smug as fuck. "I take that as yes then?"

I chased after his mouth like a drug-addled fiend, whispering softy against those fucking beautiful and bitable lips of his. "Yes."

"Yes," he repeated, and there was this odd amazement in his voice, almost as if this one word could cure cancer. Then like the turning of a tide, his smile faded and he pushed his face into my neck. "Fuck!" He gripped me tight and sunk his teeth into my skin. The sudden aggression startled me and I wondered what was going on in that head of his. What had happened in the last two seconds? He squeezed me harder, constricting my ribcage and stealing my breath. "You better not leave me."

_Oh_...I understood then.

There was no bended knee or traditional proposal, but he was submitting his soul to me. Even the darkest parts of him were mine for the taking. It was scary to need a person that much, knowing you couldn't live without them. We'd already _felt_ the hopelessness of being without each other and time only made our dependency worse.

It was a fucking miracle we survived the separation at all. If it was to happen again, I doubt we'd be so lucky.

"Willingly or otherwise," I said, and he flinched at the otherwise, "I'll never leave you."

"No, you gotta fucking promise me, Bella!" Another demand and painful, yet alluring and throbbing, bite on the neck to get my attention. "Don't bullshit me."

"I promise." And it wasn't a lie…_per se_, but it was promise I knew I'd break if it ever came down to him and the otherwise.

But he believed and trusted me,_ always_, that unshakeable faith he had in my words, no matter how trivial, were still holding strong.

"Good." He sighed and relaxed then, loosening his grip just enough so I could fucking breathe, but he didn't let go. That wasn't part of the deal.

We stood there not speaking with me in his arms, listening to the waves as they crashed on the shore in the distance. The wind blew and ruffled my hair, swirling it around us in a cocoon. I caught a flicker of the college rule paper that Edward used to propose to me float idly past us, over Tanya's glossy red hood and out into the dirt road. It seem as though everything was coming full circle and it was almost perfect…

There was just one last loose end to tie up.

"Renee and Phil," I said with a newfound excitement, sliding along Edward's body as he sat me back down on my feet. "How could I forget?"

Renee was a sobbing mess, curled up into the fetal position, and Phil was kicking at the trunk walls. He was making as much noise as possible, trying to alert Alice on the second floor. She was sitting out on the balcony in her bikini with a laptop on her lap. There was no reaching her when she was inside her world of hacked firewalls and virtual viruses—not that she would help him.

It was a wasted effort on his part.

All he managed to do with his thrashing about was dent the metal on the inside of the fender, causing it to bubble out. Edward was fuming, a vein bulging from the center of his forehead. He cursed and went on and on about only having Tanya back for less than a day and she was already getting damaged.

"You fuck..." Edward gritted his teeth and yanked out his gun, pistol whipping Phil across the temple of his skull. It knocked him out cold, and his clenched fist opened like a blooming lotus, exposing something platinum, sparkly, and lined with diamonds. Edward swore and grumbled, stuffing the Colt into his back waistband and scooping up the ring. "Thanks for ruining my girl's proposal, you fucking asshole."

_Ruined_? I scoffed inwardly. Hardly.

"Jesus," my eyes were wide and my voice hoarse, caught up in my throat. The cut was Princess...I think. All I saw were diamonds. I would have to ask Alice or Rose later about it.

"Come here," he said, grabbing my hand and slipping the ring on my finger. He smiled. "There we go, perfect fit."

I couldn't stop staring at it. "Where did you get it?"

"Goodman's Jewelry Store."

My head snapped up with recognition, but my brows furrowed because I couldn't place it. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

"Gee, I fucking wonder." He laughed, kissing me on my lips. He slammed the trunk closed and locked away the continuous struggling and whimpering. "Hurry up and go get changed, Kid. We've got your parents to kill and then dinner reservations at six."

**(0)(0)(0)**

There were plenty of places in Mexico to take someone and execute them. The law was different here. It was a killer's paradise. As long as you covered your tracks or had enough money to pay off the Mexican police, you could dispose of anyone you wanted and never get caught.

Typically that was the case, but not always, because inconsistencies happened. In such imperfect world, there were bound to be exceptions to every rule…even the strictest.

Edward was aware of this fact, and despite the scoffs he got from Marcus, he didn't kill carelessly. He'd plan his moves and think about all the possible variables and problems that could arise. He was calculating, methodical, and slow to act.

This was why we were still alive. Marcus needed him. Edward was killing off the competition and none of it was falling back on Marcus' doorstep. He had the drugs and the power without having to endure the wrath of a man's revenge. It was perfect and easy for him. He could sit back and bask in the wealth.

The only thing he didn't know was that Edward's good deeds were laced with bad intentions. It was all leading up to someone's betrayal…ours.

"On your fucking knees," Edward said, walking Phil away from the Chevelle and forcing him down on the ground.

Phil was wearing his pleated khaki shorts, and when he hit the scorching hot dirt, sizzling and burning the skin off his knee caps, he screamed out in agony.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Edward said, hitting him again with the butt of the gun.

Phil went down face first. He jumped back up so fast, hopping around on his palms like he was thrown into a path of hot coals. It was cartoonish in a way, and I stood there with my gun pressed into Renee's back, simply fascinated by the whole thing. After fifteen, _unnecessary_, seconds of stupidity, he finally he got smart and rolled over on his back.

Edward was hysterical, bent over with his hands on his thighs and laughing his ass off.

"Babe," I said, kicking him in his ass as I passed. "Try to stay focused, _please_?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you're right," he said, wiping the few stray tears from his eyes. "I'll go get the gas cans."

"Good idea," I said, pushing Renee down on her knees in the dirt next to the worthless rapist she calls a husband. Till death do they part should've been enough of punishment for her, but she purposely blinded herself, and I couldn't let the pain that she'd caused me go on any further, let alone be forgotten.

And she did forget me, way before Phil came into the picture.

I came around and crouched down in front of her. The loud cries and whimpers morphed into a quiet weeping. Her face was blotchy and stained with black tears from the heavy mascara she wore. She watched Edward set down two red, 30 gallon, gas cans, and it didn't take her long to figure out what we were going to use them for.

"Hey," I said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at me, the unwanted daughter. "Don't you worry about that, okay? You'll be dead when we set your bodies on fire." I got in real close to her ear and whispered. "You won't feel a thing. I promise."

That wasn't a lie.

She closed her eyes and broke down into another round of heavy sobs. I stared at her, unaffected. There was nothing left to feel for this woman. She'd killed my love for her long, long ago. The sight of her made me sick and I needed to get away for a moment.

Standing up, I walked over to the car where Edward was loading shells into the shotgun.

"Hey, baby," he said, turning his body around enough to kiss me on the forehead. "I'm just getting shit together."

"That's fine," I said, leaning back on the side of the car. I watched from ten feet away how Phil and Renee interacted with each other.

They kept their distance and eyes on the ground. The united front they'd displayed last August was gone now. Death was imminent and they knew it. I wasn't sure if this was a survival tactic, a divide and conquer sort of thing, but Phil was the crafty one of the two. That man had no shame. He would throw his 'beloved' wife in front of a bullet to save his own life.

It was a vast contrast to the way Edward operated. The world outside of me meant nothing to him. He didn't have a conscience. Killing people was just a physical act to him, like washing dishes or getting his fucking tires rotated on the Chevelle. Edward was a bad guy, down to his fucking core, but he was different kind of evil.

Phil didn't care about anyone but himself, raping and taking whatever and whomever he wanted without consequences. Edward loved me with all he had. I was the one variable that made him human. Even if Phil never committed another sin, he was still worse than Edward, the man who killed without remorse.

Of course, I am biased, crazy, and in fucking love with him…so there's that.

"Here," Edward said, snapping me out of my overly obsessive and inane thoughts by putting a shotgun in my hand. "It's double-barreled and twice the fun."

I snorted and holding it back out to him. "And twice the mess."

Shotguns weren't my favorite weapon, a lot of blood and guts and gore and disfiguring. It was good to use if you wanted to send a message to the right people. Nothing speaks louder than a closed-casket viewing.

"When in the fuck did you ever clean up a body?" Edward snatched the gun from my hands and placed in the backseat. He was pouting because I turned down his idea to blow Renee and Phil's head off with a bunch of fucking pellets. He liked the gore and guts and blood and disfiguring.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. He would get over it.

"Here," he reappeared from the backseat with an aluminum bat, "how about this?"

I stared at him, unblinking. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"It's a proper weapon," he said, swinging it a couple times. "It's a slow and painful kill."

"Yeah, well you can beat the shit out of Phil with _that_ and I'll use this on Renee." It was a small knife with a three, maybe four, inch blade. Rose bought it for me about a month ago. She was the up close and personal kind of gal. Also, Char's story about Maria had always stuck with me. I was curious to experience the thrill of a kill sans gun.

Edward raised his eyebrow with a pleasant, somewhat aroused, surprise. Licking his lips and taking a broad step in my direction, he pressed my body further into the side of the car, ignoring the damn resistance of the metal. The baseball bat was discarded on the ground, and he had both of his hands on top of the roof, trapping me.

I gripped his biceps as he hummed and spoke in low murmurs about how hot I was with my knife. He kissed me, gently and soft at first, along my chest, trailing a tempting and pleasurable path up to my neck. That was where he got rough, biting and sucking, marking my skin. I tried to keep my wits about me, but he had a way of distracting all my thoughts.

Oh, a one tracked mind, that boy.

"Baby, we got dinner reservations at six," I said, barely loud enough for him to hear me. I wasn't exactly putting up a fight. My fingers were clutching the back of his shirt, yanking and pulling him into me.

We were the worst two people for each other. Instead of stopping the madness, we perpetuated it and made the shit worse.

That's why our Bonnie and Clyde crime spree went astray so quickly. There was no thought behind anything we did. It was nothing but pure adrenalin and sexual arousal, like an out of control train that was off its tracks with Edward and me as its drunken and horny conductors.

It took Phil making a run for it for us to snap back to our senses.

"God damn it," Edward swore, grabbing the bat off the ground and chasing after him.

I couldn't believe how he was able to ditch his own wife like that.

Edward risked his fucking freedom for me. He would die for me. The things he would do for me was endless.

"That's quite a guy you got there." Shaking my head, I walked back over to Renee with fucking disgust on my face.

She didn't look up, and I bent down to get a clear view of her eyes. There was nothing. She was empty, completely void of any emotion. She'd given up.

I knew right then, without a shadow of a doubt, if I hadn't run away, I might have turned out just like her. The man with a criminal record and a Colt in his hand saved me from myself.

I ripped the tape off her mouth and pulled out the rag.

"You know this is the end, right?" I asked, but she didn't nod or show any indication that she heard me. So I just kept on talking. "That man you sold out your only daughter to doesn't give a shit about you. He ran to save himself and left you here to die…do you get that?"

Edward was dragging back a battered and beaten Phil by the collar of his shirt. The bat was saturated and dripping in blood. My eyes focused in on the sweat rolling down his forehead and the taut muscles in his arms. He looked good being so bad.

"Fucking piece of shit," he yelled, dropping the unconscious man to the ground. He raised the bat over his head and swung it back down, bashing Phil's head in. The dents in his skull were making his face look like it was made out of silly putty. It was mushy and pliable. He was disfigured. Edward wasn't satisfied until he saw pulp, hitting him over and over again. Bright red blood and clumps of brain matter spotted his favorite gray shirt.

I told him not to fucking wear it.

"Bella…" Renee croaked out, voice raspy and low. I jumped and shot her a startled, yet an angry look for catching me off guard. "Come here, my beautiful baby girl. I want to you to know something."

The last time she called me by that term of endearment was an hour before she got married to Phil and things between us were never the same after that.

"Okay," I said, untrusting and somewhat hesitant.

She smiled with content, peaceful even, whispering faintly as I moved closer into her. "I should have aborted you."

I didn't flinch at her words. A year ago, they would've destroyed me. It was to be expected now. She had zero power to hurt me.

"Yes, you should've," I said, but the time of talking had come to an end and now she was going to christen my virgin blade.

First times were over rather quickly, whether it be from sex or killing.

It happened so fast and without thought or me even realizing it.

I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. The knife went into her skin with ease and I slit her from ear to ear, nearly decapitated her. All my hate and her misplaced love came out of me with unimaginable strength.

The deed done, I sat back on my heels and watched her flounder like a fish, gagging and choking on her own blood. It drained out and flooded the ground, coming towards me in a steady, lava-like, crawl. The red essence that was her life hit the fabric of my jeans, but I didn't move an inch. I welcomed it.

This was my trophy.

Renee gave one last gargled breath, slumping over with a dull thud as her twitchy limbs finally came to an inevitable stop.

**A/N: Sorry this is a late post, but I'm here! Thank you for still reading and reviewing me. I'll reply to the ones I've haven't got to…you know who you are ;)**

**I write this story as I go…there is a plan, but not fully formed. So I am just as eager as you are to see where this goes. **

**Thank you, Brina for pre-reading this for me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**dmitDISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. is tha intellectual property ta tha respectizzle lyricist. Da original gangsta charactas n' deal is tha property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**-Chapter Two-**

Edward speared the bat into the dirt and crouched down beside me. He was out of breath and flushed, wiping the sweat off his brow. The proof of Phil's demise was everywhere on him: all over his clothes, splattered across his chest, most of his face, and along his arms. The blood, a deep and dripping red, covered up his tattoos with a sinister charm. A sane person would be terrified and sickened by Edward, they might even run for their lives or call for help, but I moved closer, sexually drawn to the killer within him.

"Well, well, well," he pulled a Marlboro out from behind his ear and lit it with the gold-plated Zippo, a token of 'appreciation' we'd swiped from a dealer in El Paso, "look at the mess you made."

There was a three-foot radius around Renee's body, obscuring the desert ground and soaking into the front of my jeans. I counted how long it took for her to drain out: a minute and forty-five seconds.

_Wow…_"She's a bleeder."

He laughed. "Yeah, no shit."

"At least it's contained to one area," I added, watching him smoke out of the corner of my eye. He nodded in response, flicking the ashes into the shallow, coagulating puddle.

Damn, he was sexy.

"It got the job done," he said, turning the filter towards me.

Partaking in his offer, I held onto his wrists and wrapped my lips around the end of the cigarette. The nicotine was smooth; it flowed through my lungs and rushed into my blood. It didn't burn or make me cough, only soothed the nerves.

A post-kill smoke was our ritual. We would pass it back and forth until it was done.

"Let's see what sort of damaged you caused." Edward jabbed Renee's shoulder with the bat and rolled her over. There was a sound, a juicy squish, and the head lolled to the side. He jerked back like he'd been electrocuted, the grisly sight taking him by surprise. "Holy…fucking Christ, baby! That shit is deep—and you're fucking telling me that itty-bitty blade did that?"

I nodded, putting my hands on the ground and leaning forward to reexamine my handiwork. The gaping wound in her neck was hollow, showing her spine, the trachea, and other unimaginable things, but it was clean.

A shotgun blast was an impersonal gesture, and in my opinion, pretty gory in a guys-action-flick kind of way to kill Renee. One pull of the trigger and it would've propelled a hundred or more birdshots, causing a clotted and destructive mess, all over this fucking desert, bits and pieces of her to find and bury with dirt.

The knife was an elegant solution, with its simple, linear cut along her throat. It was pure, refined, and somewhat...artistic.

Edward was right; I finally got use to the sight of blood.

When I'd killed Caius all those months ago, I was so unsure of myself. I'd assumed my reasoning for shooting him was because I wanted to impress the man I loved. Even if that was true, I would've felt some sort of remorse for taking Caius' life, but it had the opposite effect on me. He was dead. I'd killed him and burned the body. The world kept spinning around and around, never taking pause to judge my sin.

That was that, and I'd washed my hands of it.

By my fourth kill, I couldn't hide the darkness from myself any longer. The thrill was indescribable. My heart would beat faster and faster, blood bounding in my veins, and I was in control of my life—_their_ life. Nothing made sense but the gun in my hand and the victim who stood in front of it.

It calmed me, made the otherwise insane thoughts sane.

Edward's needs to kill were a tad bit different than mine. He did things out of necessity. He enjoyed the act of killing and it was fun to him, but he didn't actively go searching for it. If a situation presented itself, he took it. There had to be a cause for his actions. I was the impulsive seeker in our relationship.

This bloodlust grew every day, becoming insatiable and more demanding of me. It was constant, all the time, and at one point, I expected Edward to pull away or reel me in, but he nurtured that demon inside. He encouraged it.

My bad boy was a bad, bad influence.

The physical attraction between us had always been strong and undeniable, but during those times when we were killing together, that need became amplified, heightened by sex, and we had to have each other—no excuses.

Blood or not, it was a fetish, a powerful one, and once it was set into motion, it was almost impossible to stop.

This often complicated things, _like_…dealer hits, drug runs, business meetings, grocery errands, that fucking ghetto-ass laundry mat…and yeah, the list goes on from there.

"God damn it, Bella!" Edward's voice was severe.

I shot him a glare. "God damn me, what?"

"It fucking pisses me off that you didn't wait for me." The cigarette was dangling out of his mouth as he ranted.

"Oh, you mean like you fucking waited for me?" I raised a skeptical eyebrow, nodding my head over at the lump in the desert formally known as Phil. "Really?"

"He was on the move." He defended with a shrug. "I had to improvise."

"Yeah, well, me too," I said, staring down at my knife clutched in my hand. There was a single sliver of blood along the blade, and I felt a ping of sadness…no, not sadness, more like disappointment.

The plan was to draw out the torture of Phil and Renee with some beatings, maybe a little amputation of their fingers and toes. We wanted them to cry out in pain, plead for their lives. It was supposed to last for hours so we get our fill of restitution they owed me—us. We'd discussed it numerous times: during a drug run, on the beach, over breakfast, naked in each other's arms. We'd fantasized about how we would do it, down to the last grueling detail, for almost a year now.

In the end, it wasn't as long-lasting as we hoped, but to know these two evil and unconscionable liars were out of this world for good was enough for me.

"Fuccckk!" he yelled and chucked the bat over at Phil, landing a foot from his mangled body. He shook his head, running his blood-soaked hands through his hair. "I wanted so badly to see you use that knife on her."

Edward was revered by people who didn't know him and feared by people who did, but with me he was gentle, completely owned, and wasn't afraid to fucking sulk.

"Oh, honey..." I said, rising to my knees and wedging myself in between his legs. He put his hands on my waist and smiled faintly, assuming I was there to comfort him. He was wrong. "...I was _sooo_ good." I bit my lip, lifting the knife up and putting it to his neck, barely piercing his skin. "I slit Renee from _here_," his eyes darkened into something feral and lustful as I dragged the sharp tip across his throat, slowly going from left to the right, "to _here_."

"_Christ_," he groaned and closed his eyes, gripping me tighter. "You're fucking _killing_ me."

"Mmmm, not yet, baby," I purred, keeping the knife to his throat and plucking the cigarette out of his mouth. I took a couple deep, long drags, moving in close and blowing the smoke into his face. "It's really a shame you missed it." He looked pained, and dug his fingers into my skin. Leaning away from him, I flicked the depleted cigarette to the ground and spoke with a taunting inflection in my voice. "Oh, well, maybe next time."

Edward eye's snapped open, transforming into a hostile glare. He took a hold of the blade and eased it away from his neck. "You wanna fucking play?"

Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed me by the throat and jerked me back into his restricted space, strong and dominant lips colliding hard with mine. My mouth forced open as his tongue pushed in, aggressive and leading. I shuddered under his persuasive embrace, struggling to breathe.

He moved his hold from my neck back down to waist, picking me up and flipping me over. I was lying on the ground with him on top of me, prying my legs a part and settling in between them. His hands, smeared and tainted in blood, found their way up my shirt. Grabbing and tearing at my bra, he ripped the lacy fabric away and exposed my right breast, grasping it with a gentle but rough touch.

I moaned into his mouth, arching my back and further pressing my chest into him. Grunting in response, he seized my hard nipple with his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging on it.

Lost in his painful and corrupted touch, I reached up and gripped the back of his neck, dragging him down further and whispering a plea against his lips. "Fuck me, _please."_

He cursed against my willing lips, deepening the kiss and driving hips into mine. With each hard, uncompromising thrust, he showed me how much of his yearning and need to be inside me was realized.

Everything was a chaotic contradiction, our bodies swimming and drowning in lust.

My fingers were shaky and impatient with need, fumbling on the button of his jeans. I could feel him pressing against the zipper. He was hard and ready. This was so wrong, I knew it, but I didn't care.

Barely clinging on to my sanity now, I was closer to sinning in ways that even God couldn't—or wouldn't overlook.

When my efforts had prevailed to get that button undone from its denim notch and my hand was around him, Edward stopped kissing me and pulled away. The loss of his warmth, even in the hundred degree heat, made me shiver. My whole body was throbbing, aching—screaming to be touched, but Edward was distant, stuffing himself back into the jean and locking it up.

Hoping to convince come lay in sin with me; I sat up and gripped a hold of his arm, clawing, fucking desperate for him, needing to be put out of this misery.

But he was resistant to my advances, peeling my fingers off his biceps and putting them back in my lap. I tilted my head to the side, confused to why he was cockblocking, and with an arrogant, half-cocked smirk he answered my unspoken question.

I narrowed my eyes, knowing right then what he'd done to me and why. It was both a turn-on and infuriating.

"_Ughhh_!" I growled in frustration, throwing my body back on the ground. "You're such an asshole."

"Yup," he said, confiscating my knife and rising to his feet, "and maybe next time you'll fucking wait for me."

**(0)(0)(0)**

Edward doused the bodies in gasoline and I threw the match. Renee and Phil, or what was left of them, went up in flames, and we watched from the car as the smoke rose into a dark cloud, vanishing into the dusky night sky. It was cathartic in its finality. The weight of their lives lifted and years and years of abuse caused was gone, faded into nothing but a distant memory.

One chapter in my book closed, never to be reopened again.

"Well, dinner was a fucking bust," Edward said, his phone screen lit up and showing the time.

It was twenty past six in the evening and our reservations were lost. It wasn't a big deal—not to me. This was far better. The restaurant would be there tomorrow and the night after that and so on, but a sight like this only comes around once in a lifetime.

"I don't know why you try to set time limits on us, Edward," I said, playfully bumping shoulders with him. "We're incapable of following any sort of structure or schedule."

"If I didn't try to give us structure, can you fucking imagine what we would do?" He laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Christ, Kid, you can't let a wild lion out on the streets and expect him to become domesticated."

I gaped at him, completely baffled by his logic. "I don't…what does that even mean?"

"It means, shut the fuck up and watch the God damn fire, Bella." He threw his arm over my shoulders, pulling me close, and kissing the top of my head. "Fucking smartass."

I smirked, hugging him around his waist. My face was buried in his chest, and I didn't even care about the shirt he was wearing or how the crusted blood itched my cheek. In that moment, I was happy and blissfully so.

The fire died down around seven thirty, maybe eight, and we stayed there on the hood of Tanya until the stars shined bright enough to make out the Big Dipper.

"I never asked you, but did she beg?" Edward was holding my hand, idly twirling the ring around and around on my finger.

"No, definitely not." I scoffed, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Even in the end she was determined to hurt me. It was a failed attempt, but even if Edward was disappointed not to be a part of Renee's final moments, I was glad he wasn't around to hear her last words. It would've crushed him and that would've killed me and then she would've won.

"How about Phillip?" I asked. "Did he put up a good fight?"

"Yeah, he begged, all right," Edward said, jumping off the hood of the car and pulling a cigarette out from his pocket. He lit it and inhaled deep. "A little too fucking much, if you ask me. The shit was fucking embarrassing. It took all the fun out of it."

This surprised me, and not because half the thrill we got was in the pleading, but the fact he admitted that killing Phil wasn't fun or satisfying for him. I stared at his face, gauging his sincerity. There wasn't a smirk or a playful glimmer in his eyes, a tell-tale sign that he was messing with me. He had his head down, kicking at the dirt, and casually smoking his cigarette. There was something up with him, I just didn't know what it was…and God, I had idea how to fucking broach it.

Edward was temperamental, like a wild lion, and although he was often open to me, it didn't take much for him to go cold and shut me out.

"How can…" I paused, choosing my words carefully, "how can someone beg for their life a little too much?"

"Jesus, I don't know, Kid," he said, taking another hard drag before handing it over to me. "There was no gall or glory in that asshole. He curled up into a ball and cried like a little _bitch_ when I caught up to him."

"But we've had guys cry before," I reminded him, taking a quick puff and passing it back. "Remember Tommy-Tom?"

My second kill, Tommy-Tom from Tucson. He was a petty coke dealer and informant for the border patrol, State police, FBI, and anybody willing to cut him a deal. I'd been nervous that day, but his sobbing, accompanied by snot pouring out of his nose, overshadowed my inexperience. Edward had laughed at him, telling poor Tommy-Tom from Tucson to grow some fucking balls, and then he shot the guy in the face with his own double-barrel shotgun named Bertha. She was in Tanya's backseat.

Edward called that shit irony.

"Yeah, but not like this, Bella," he said, rubbing and scratching his eyebrow piercing. I could see the thought behind his eyes, trying to figure out how to describe the difference to me. He lost the battle and sighed. "I expected him to put up a fucking fight. Give me a God damn challenge."

I laughed, scooting across the hood to where he stood and draping my arms around his neck. "Baby, he had his hands tied behind his back and you were holding a bat. There was no way in hell he was winning against you. All he could do was cry and beg."

"Fuck that shit!" He pushed himself off the car, smoking and pacing. "I would've fucking fought. I would never lie down and give you up. I'll fucking protect you. I'll fucking die before letting anything happen to you."

Okay, call me crazy, but this wasn't about Phil anymore, and the way the conversation shifted and turned into something else entirely worried me. I slid off the car and approached him with caution, slowly putting my hand on his back. He swung around and faced me, his eyes filled with such intensity and regret.

It made my heart stop and fall, panic and fear sinking in.

"Is there something I should know, Edward? Is Marcus getting ready to move his plan forward and kill us?"

I sounded small, and he caught on to my concern. That changed everything, and the stress in his eyes disappeared and softened.

"No, baby, of course not," he said, taking a step into me and placing his hands on my face. He lowered his forehead to mine. "I would've told you if he was. You know that."

"Then why are you talking about fighting and dying for me?" He knew that topic was off limits. Neither one of us could bear the thought of it.

He held me closer with each word he spoke, his lips inches from mine. "If shit goes down, I don't want you doing anything stupid."

That was an understatement. Stupid was my thing, especially if it came down to me or him getting the axe. I would put my neck on the chopping block in a heartbeat and he knew that—which fucking scared him.

But I asked anyway. "Like what?"

"It doesn't matter, all right? I'm going handle it. Whatever comes, they're going have to kill me first." I started to protest his crazy demands, but then he kissed me, so deep and so hard. With his lips pressed to mine, he was telling me everything he couldn't say. It shut me up, erased my mind, all my worry, and forever distracting me. When he released me from his captive hold, I was dizzy and breathless. He smirked, confident and cocky as always. "But I would like to see the fuckers try."

**(0)(0)(0)**

Everything was dark when we arrived home. The house sat on a secluded Mexican beach, far from the little town. It was hard to locate on the map, unless you had precise directions or someone who'd been there before. It was the type of place Edward and me needed, hidden and impossible to find.

There were people out there wanting us dead, multiplying in numbers as we did more and more business for Marcus. Edward assured me everything would work out and not to worry. I clung to him and my gun, putting all my trust into both.

"God, I've never been this tired," I said to myself, stumbling out of the car.

The day had been long and emotionally draining. All I wanted to do was get in a shower with Edward and go to bed. Tomorrow we'll go public with our change relationship in status. That'll be interesting to get everyone's opinion on the matter.

"We got a thing going on this Friday," Edward told me, coming over to my side and helping me out. He took my hand, firm and strong, leading me up to the front porch.

I yawned, leaning my head against his arm for pillow support. "Oh, yeah, what's the gig?"

These trips, or what I liked to call _gigs,_ were hits and drug collections for Marcus. The smuggling business was high revenue, but he needed supplies to feed the demand. That meant killing and diminishing all the competing drug dealers. Their murders go unnoticed by law enforcement, one less piece of shit on the streets, and if we were really careful, there was zero retaliation from the dealer's people.

Things were getting choppy and more dangerous. The more hits we did for Marcus the more well known our faces were getting through certain people and groups—but that's how I wanted it. Edward and I do everything together; no one else would be involved. That was the deal we made in Chicago. He was giving me his exclusivity.

These new set of rules changed the whole family dynamic, and now they were the last ones to be in the loop—and that was only if Edward and I decided it was pertinent for them to be involved. There had yet to come a day where we felt like telling them what we were doing, or about Marcus' plans to kill us and our plans to kill him.

The less they knew about this shit the better.

"Rocky Point," he answered, taking out his keys and unlocking the door.

"Who's the guy?"

"His name is Juan."

The door opened into our foyer and a flood of lights flicked on, sudden and bright, exposing a crowd of people that included our family and Marcus with his crew, and they were all waiting for us with these big-ass smiles on their faces. There was a congratulations sign hanging above their heads and Alice was front and center holding a massive cake.

The looks of excitement to see the newly engaged couple turned into horror and shock as their eyes focused in on Edward and me. We stood there in the doorway with our fingers tightly interlocked and clothes saturated, completely covered in head-to-toe blood.

**A/N: We should be getting into the heart of the story very soon. I don't want to make the sequel 56 choppies long like C&C was, so I'll try to get to the point. Thanks for reading and favorite'ing this story. Hope you're having fun with this twisted couple. It's gonna only get darker from here. The warning still applies. **

**Much love, see ya all next Friday.**

**To my girl, Brina….you rock, babe! Thanks for pre-reading, per usual.**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. is tha intellectual property ta tha respectizzle lyricist. Da original gangsta charactas n' deal is tha property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**-Chapter Three-**

If my life was a movie, the upbeat music would fall silent and the camera would pan around, taking shots of everyone's face in a quick, staccato flicker.

_Boom, boom, boom!_

A room full of criminals, immune to stealing and killing and taking whatever they wanted without asking, and yet they're shocked, in complete standstill, at the couple with blood-stained clothes.

The camera doesn't stop, and it zooms in on Alice, getting a tight close-up of her cheerful smile. It never falters. Those perfect teeth clenched into a frozen state. Her posture, once relaxed, now rigid like a board. The words, '_Congratulations Bella and Edward'_, written so elegantly on the cake taking on an ironic, sinister tone. .

The tense seconds tick by…_one...two…three_. Yet, no one speaks.

The camera whips around the packed foyer and halts to a dead stop when it gets to the villain of my movie.

_Marcus. _

A reserved grin hides his intent and shows no outward signs of his wickedness, but the dark, cunning eyes were a window into his thoughts. He wasn't surprised to see the main characters show up to their own surprise engagement party post-kill, completely unprepared for company. He knew what they've done night after night before this night.

Two souls without a conscience and a steady trigger finger was one hell of an asset to a man like him, driven by money and insatiable lust for power.

The captivated audience, leaning forward in their seats and with fingers in the bowl of overly buttered popcorn, would recognize Marcus to be the bad guy, not the newly engaged couple standing in the doorway with the guilt smeared on their hands and mementos-slash-trophies stuffed into their back pockets.

They were killers, through and through, but their love, so raw and untamed, would be the redeeming factor. The audience couldn't help but forgive them for their sins.

They might even root for them in the end.

The music would creep in slow as the camera moved over to the family, centering in on each one of their faces to capture and gauge their reactions. It would be a solid mixture, ranging from the usual shock and awe, with a touch of curious fascination, followed by intense pride, and ending with the exasperated sigh of annoyance.

The diamond ring with its multifaceted dimensions sparkled under the intense ceiling lights, and out of three girls in the room, not one attempted to cross the lines and fawn over its beauty.

In my movie, this was where reality versus fantasy wouldn't match-up, because although my girly-girl nature was never fully developed, I still wanted that attention. The excited screams that girls do when one gets engaged.

The murder of Phil and Renee kind of put a kink in all of tonight's festivities.

"I know what you're all thinking right now, but you can relax," Edward said, the tatted charmer in my movie with the stunning green eyes. He would be the first one to step up and break the awkward silence. At the mere age of twenty-eight, he commanded rooms without even trying, because simply by existing and being a Goliath presence in this world, people had no choice but to pay attention to every word out of his lip-pierced mouth. "It's not our blood."

That gained a few, semi-awkward and uncomfortable, chuckles.

Edward didn't have to hide who he was and had always been forthcoming about his nature. Everyone knew the things he'd done before and after meeting me. All the people he'd killed and maimed for fun was common knowledge among the people inside, even outside, of our family. I'd been the only one left in the dark for all those months, scrambling on my own to find the light switch.

So much for a heads-up—not that it would've changed anything.

"Why don't you guys take a seat in the living room and give us a minute to freshen up," Edward said, gripping my hand tighter and leading me through the dense crowd. He snagged the three-tier cake from Alice as he passed and went straight into the kitchen with it.

No one followed…Well, except for Jasper, and he wasn't pulling any punches. The man gave us half of a second to breathe and collect our heads before he was launching his fatherly-missiles.

"This is interesting turn of events, isn't it?" he asked, giving a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. "Jesus, you guys—"

"What's Marcus doing here?" Edward interrupted, setting the cake down on the counter with care. My guy had a bit of a sweet tooth and been eyeing that sucker ever since we walked through the door. He didn't think anyone saw his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas, but I did.

I was always watching him.

"Alice invited him," Jasper said, resting his palms on the center islander. All the fire in his rant fizzled out. "She thought Bella might like to see Didyme—but shit, man, he had some trouble finding the house and almost didn't make it here."

Edward chuckled, but it was dry, humorless. "Did it ever fucking occur to you that was by design? Maybe, me and Kid didn't want him to know where we lived."

I realized then how complicated our situation had become. Marcus and his crew knew where our safe haven was. That was the worst fucking thing that could happen. The protection we'd spent months and months of searching through real estate was gone now. All because of one proposal, one party, and the one decision to keep the family out of the loop.

Jasper was too smart for his own good.

"Wait, what the fuck am I missing here?" Taking a step back, he took a quick glance down the hall and listened. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he returned to his spot but lowered his voice into a harsh whisper. "Is Marcus a threat to us?"

Edward didn't blink, but he lied, and it was flawless. "No, he's not, but you know me well enough to fucking know I don't mix business with pleasure. This is our _home_, Jazz, and Marcus is _not_ family. You understand?"

"Yeah, I understand, man, and look I'm sorry about Alice and this party. You know how she gets sometimes."

"Don't fucking worry about it. The shit is done," Edward said, waving him off.

"It was a last minute decision. She just wanted to give you guys a nice…" Jasper paused, taking stock of our disturbing appearance, which brought back his original lecture. "What the fuck happened out there? I thought you were just going to scare them."

"We did scare them, didn't we, Kid?" Edward said, hooking his arm around my neck and pulling me into a tight head-lock.

"Yes, sir," I said, gazing up at him, but damn my poker face was horrible. It was hard to sound cold and deadly when I was grinning from ear to ear.

"But that shit got boring." He shrugged and continued, sliding his finger across the side of the cake and coating it with frosting. He gently smeared it across my bottom lip and watched intently as my tongue peeked to taste the sugary goodness. He winked, and sucked the rest of it off his finger. The possibilities of frosting being licked off certain areas crossed my mind. Mr. Tease thought it too, but erased all traces of it from his face and looked back at Jazz. "So to make a long story short, we killed them."

"With what exactly, a fucking sledge hammer?"

We both laughed, but Jasper held his ground and stared at us with a composed, unsmiling face, seeking an explanation where there wasn't one.

"Close, but not quite," Edward said, peering down at me and scrunching up his nose. "There was a bat and a…"

"…switchblade," I finished, my hand reaching down to reacquire said blade from his back pocket.

He swerved his hips out of my grabbing range and glared, tightening his bicep around my throat. "Ah, yes, I fucking remember now."

The defiant kid in me wanted to taunt and glorify how it felt to kill with my knife, just to get him all riled up, but Jasper was still in the room. That made having sex against the cabinets, or possibly on the floor or on the counters or on my Spanish-style dining room table, an unlikely…_and_ slightly awkward outcome.

So I sucked in a breath and let the opportunity pass.

"You killed her parents with bat and a switchblade," Jasper repeated and mumbled to himself, giving a rare combo of nodding and a head shake. "Well, that's just fucking perfect. I hoped you burned the bodies or buried them deep enough—Christ, you guys!" Jasper was pacing now, and the rubber soles on his boots were leaving black scruff marks on my tile. "And what happens when people start coming around to ask questions about them? Have you thought that far ahead?"

"They won't come around," Edward assured him, and I would have to agree. If Phil and Renee do get filed as a missing person, no one was going to search for them here…in fucking Mexico?

"You better hope that's true, man, because I'm not going to break your dumbasses out of jail again. That was a onetime thing."

Jasper was a weird brand of criminal. He grew weed in Mazatlan at an illegal abundance, and even crossed borders to break laws to smuggle these drugs. As for killing, he wasn't opposed to it—god knows he's done his fair share. He even helped Edward take care of some people, put a bullet in a head or two and burned a few bodies.

Ethical morals and rightness wasn't the issue with him. It never was.

Jasper was a worrier. That was his role. He took it upon himself to keep everyone in check, but Edward and I were in a league of our own. We did what we wanted when we wanted, and that caused issues. Jasper saw our antics, killing or otherwise, as reckless and irresponsible. He'd been anticipating the day we'd get caught and thrown behind bars.

_It's only a matter of time_, he'd said.

Neither Edward nor I bothered trying to convince Jazz that when we killed, we were smart and covered our tracks. How easily he forgets that we got arrested because we were greedy for money, not murder. Caius, one of the many examples, was a cold case file in Iowa.

"Will you fucking relax, man?" Edward untangled his body from mine and approached his fretful, somewhat neurotic, friend, slapping him hard on the back and stopping his mantic pacing. "You'll live longer."

"You want me to relax while you two insane fuckers are out there running around killing people with bats and switchblades?" Jasper snorted and rolled his eyes. "Right."

I smiled, because the image in my head of Edward and me running about Mexico toting bloody bats and switchblades was funny and slightly cartoonish.

"Look, thanks for giving us this _pep-talk_?" Edward asked. Jasper shrugged. He knew there wasn't a point to his rant. Nothing had changed. "Why don't you gather everyone up, and _maybe_, we can do this celebratory shit tomorrow."

Which basically meant in Edward speak, it wasn't going to happen.

"Are you serious? Everyone is here already. Just go take a fucking shower. You'll feel better," Jasper said, grabbing both of our arms and leading us towards the kitchen doorway.

Edward rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "We're just really fucking beat, all right? It's been a long-ass day—for the both of us. Just do me this one favor."

"Fine, whatever, man," Jasper huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "But you and Bella are going to have to go out there and tell Alice why you're bailing on her party."

"Her fucking party?" Edward seethed, and the turnaround happened so fast and unexpectedly, I wasn't even sure what brought it on. His body tensed up from his neck all the way to with his hands, balled into tight fists. He narrowed his eyes on Jasper, sudden anger erupting out of him. "No, fuck that! I told you not to run your God damn mouth off about my plans to propose to Bella—especially to your fucking girlfriend! I didn't want to have come home to this bullshit!" He pointed towards the wall with the living room on the other side.

"Calm down, man," Jasper said, putting his hands up to ward off the raging bull. It was too late and past the point of civil conversation.

Edward was inches from Jasper's face, speaking low and gruff, his jaw clenched shut. "No, you caused this mess, _you_ fucking clean it up."

Like a beta to his alpha, Jasper bowed down.

"Yeah, no you're right. I'll tell her." He gulped, backing away slowly. "We cool?"

Edward was volatile person, but today his fuse was abnormally short. No one wanted to be on his bad side. The repercussions of being blacklisted were deadly.

"I want everyone out of my house in five minutes," Edward said, and Jasper went to open his mouth, but Edward cut him off, voice rising with every angered syllable. "No, you got five fucking minutes to clear out, Jazz. Not six, not ten, but five. You got me?"

"Loud and clear, boss," he said, turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen.

Edward and I didn't speak. We listened as each one of our guests left. The faint sounds of multiple footsteps on the floor leading out to the front and down the porch into our side yard. People getting into their cars, closing the doors and starting their engines, tires crunching on gravel as each vehicle pulled out of the driveway and left. It took less than five minutes for ten or so guests to clear out, and not one single person dared to poke their head in and say goodbye.

It was unspoken knowledge among our friends and enemies that if Edward _ever _cut a party short, he was pissed about something. There were only few times where this sort of thing has happened, and in each of those times, tequila played a huge part. He couldn't handle his _Jose Cuervo_.

This wasn't one of those times.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Edward erupted, cracking his knuckles on the marble countertop and breathing heavily through his nose.

I didn't flinch, but my heart was beating faster and my mouth went dry.

The only person within a thousand mile radius that wasn't scared of Edward Cullen was me. No, his angry outbursts excited me. When Edward loved, he loved passionately—no matter what, but when he loved with a heated fury, wanting to fight the whole fucking world…_Damn_! There were no words to describe the rough insanity of his touch, and it was maddening, irrational to provoke the demon, but I craved every bit of him.

"Come here," I said, grabbing the back of his jeans and tugging on them.

"What, Bella?" He snapped, keeping his head down and back to me.

"Fucking kiss me, asshole!" I demanded, tugging harder on his jeans, and before another word was exhaled, he was all over me: in my mouth, in my hair, on my skin, in my mind, and everywhere that wasn't seen, only felt…so deep, penetrating.

Forcing and pushing his tongue past my lips to take control of mine, I felt dizzy and consumed. I reached up and gripped the back of his neck, trying to keep up with the intensity of the kiss, but it moved too fast. He grabbed my waist and walked me back, slow and purposeful, until he had me pressed into the counter, under the crushing dominance of his weight and unable to break away from him.

"Is this what you fucking want?" he said, moving his mouth along my chin and the hollow of my neck.

I whimpered a response, digging my fingernails into his skin as my bra was being torn away. The lacey straps were barely clinging on by my shoulders. He bent at the knees, pulling the shirt aside, kissing and palming my breasts. Everything, his mouth and hands, were gentle and unhurried at first, but as my pants became more labored and our passion intensified, he turned rough, squeezing and pinching my nipples, sucking and biting at my skin.

My body was shaking, a live-wire of arousal, anticipating that moment he rips away these last barriers and fills me.

"Baby," I gasped, my fingers completely immersed and tangled in his hair.

Jerking his head back and standing up to full height, he grabbed ahold of my hips and lifted me up onto the counter. His mouth on mine before I can think or even take a breath, pushing his chest into me and laying me back down…where I go straight into the fucking cake.

"Shit!" I screamed, flying up into a sitting position. The frosting was everywhere, in my hair and on my arms.

Edward laughed, resting his forehead on my lap. "This is _not_ how I wanted this night to go."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, and he looked up at me. I wiped the white, sticky sweet substance off my arm and dabbed it on his nose. "How did you want it to go?"

"Well…" he said, grabbing what was left of my tattered shirt and pulling me back down into a kiss. It was brief, but he transferred the frosting from the tip of his nose to mine. We were a mess of blood and sugar. "I wanted to propose to you, murder your worthless parents, have a little food to celebrate, and then come home to fuck your brains out."

I smirked, still tasting vanilla and Edward on my tongue. "In that order?"

"In that order, or variations of that order, just depending on whether you like to eat and fuck or kill and eat or fuck and kill."

"Hmm, how about this," I said, placing my hands on his biceps, feeling the taut muscles and bulging veins underneath. Bending forward, real close and closer still, I whispered against his lips. "We kill while fucking each other's brains out?"

"I think that's doable," Edward said, hooking his fingers into the belt loop of my jeans and dragging my ass across the counter with one swift jerk. He had his mouth on my neck and his hands down my shirt. My legs wrapped around him and my head thrown back.

We didn't hear a damn thing.

"I forgot to give this to…" A familiar voice far and distance, somehow managed to drift its way to my ears. "Oh, shit!"

Snapping my head up, I saw Jasper standing in the doorway with head down and arm stretched out. He had a silver envelope in his hand.

Edward kept his eyes on me, but spoke curt to Jasper. "I told you to fucking leave."

"I know, man, but Alice asked—"

"The shit just keeps on coming," Edward said, lifting me off the counter and stood in front of me. My shirt was hanging off my body and showing all of my unmentionables. I fixed it before giving Jasper an eyeful. "You good, baby?"

I glanced down to double-check and saw no boob or nipple peeking through. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good," he said, spinning around and holding his hand out to Jasper. "Give me your fucking key."

Jasper's eyes went wide. "What?"

"I want your key to my house back," Edward said, "and you can tell the rest of the family that I want their keys, too."

"You don't think is a slight overreaction?" Jasper said, reaching into his pocket and handing it over.

"I gave the keys out for emergencies, not for you assholes to walk in without fucking knocking or invite whoever you wanted into this house."

"This shit is about Marcus, isn't it?" Jasper said, shaking his head.

"Lock my fucking door on your way out." Edward turned around and tugged on the bottom of my shirt, desperate to get me alone. "Come on, Kid."

"Go ahead, I'll be right up," I said, and face fell into a pout, but only enough for me to notice. I rushed to explain. "I just want to put the cake in the fridge…or what's left of it."

Edward jutted out his chin. "Five mintues."

"Two!" I amended, offering my hand.

"Deal," he said, shaking it. He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

There was a promise in that chaste kiss for more to come, and if the cake wasn't so damn beautiful and delectably sweet, I'd say to hell with it and let that shit melt.

"Night, Eddie." Jasper offered over the envelope in his hand, but Edward didn't give a second glance as he walked out of the kitchen. Jasper put it on the counter's edge. "Here, it's just a card. Alice wanted to make sure you guys got it."

"Thanks," I said, easing the flattened cake into the fridge. There was tension hanging in the air, and I felt like it was up to me to assure Jasper that everything was fine or at least try to explain to him why Edward was easily set-off tonight. "He's just tired, you know?"

I could've done better, because Jasper wasn't buying it.

"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I've known Edward for a lot of years, Bella, and he's never been like this."

"Maybe he's stressed out because he's tied himself down to me," I said, grabbing the last bottled water out of the fridge and closing the door with my foot. "You know, some men tend freak out when they realize they're going to be husbands."

He laughed. "No, I saw the look in his eyes when he told me he was going to ask you. It's not that."

"We'll see," I said, out of piss-poor excuses and seeing a narrow path in the doorway to my needed escape. I just had to suck in my gut and squeeze by him. "Well, goodnight, Jazz. Make sure to tell Alice thank you."

"Bella," Jasper stepped to the side, completely blocking me in. "Can I ask you do something for me?"

My stomached tightened. "Uh, yeah, of course."

"Tell him to stop."

"Stop…what?"

He moved into my personal space, taking a quick glance down the hall. It was Edward he was watching out for now. "Whatever it is you guys are planning to do with Marcus. I advise you to stop it now. It won't end well."

"Jazz, I don't—"

"No, just listen to me." He said, his voice strained. "You got to talk to him. You're only one he listens to."

I shook my head, fucking speechless that he was coming at me like this.

"If you think you have to go along with everything he says, you don't, all right? He fucking worships you. If you said stop, he would."

"Jazz, I really don't know what you're talking about." Edward taught me to lie and to lie well. There were no exceptions to the rule where family was concerned.

"Yes, you do," he said, noticing me sneaking through the gap he left open as he paced. He shot out his hand and grabbed my arm. "You're a better person than all of this, Bella."

He had _no_ idea who I was or what I was capable of.

I yanked myself out of his grasp. "I'm really not."

**AN: Sorry this is getting to you a little late. It's been work, work, and more effin work. Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you're enjoying the story thus far. See ya next week!**

**Special thanks to my girl, Brina! I love ya! And maybe I can sneak away and go to Forks in September with ya. *crossey fingers***


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. is tha intellectual property ta tha respectizzle lyricist. Da original gangsta charactas n' deal is tha property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

-**Chapter Four-**

"Bella, I didn't mean to grab you like that," Jasper said, trying to make amends, but the damage was done. The handprint wrapped around my arm was blotchy, an irritated red, and a perfect outline of his fingers.

A deep bruise would likely follow, and after that, all bets were off.

There was an unspoken rule and everyone was well-versed in it. I was Edward's girl. That meant no one fucking touched me, under any circumstances, and any form of harassment resulted in a severe beating or death. Only a handful of people have made this mistake in the past, but all of them paid the price with their lives and became a pile of ashes.

Jasper had just become a part of the elite handful of fuck-ups.

"You should leave," I said, backing away and giving him plenty of room to make a run for it. He was going to need head start.

"Okay, but just…" Jasper shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step towards the door, but also in that one step, he'd closed the small gap of distance between us that I'd purposely created, "…remember what I said, all right?"

_Jesus, this guy is relentless._

I'm not sure if I was impressed with Jasper's persistence to get the message delivered or annoyed. He's only spoken four sentences to me since we've met almost a year ago, but now he's all sorts of chatty—not to mention insulting?

_Annoyed, I'm definitely annoyed._

"My two minutes are up." My eyes flashed to the stairs and back over at him.

It was the last warning I was handing out.

Jasper nodded, relented—gave up, because he knew.

The plea he'd risked his friendship for, and possibly his life, had landed on deaf ears. It was a waste of his time. There was no goodnight or begging for forgiveness uttered from his mouth, he left my house like he was walking the green mile and didn't look back.

The door shut behind him, and I relaxed, but not enough to get my heart rate down. I was pressed up against the wall, listening to the sound of his boots crunching on gravel as he walked across the drive to get into his truck. He started the engine, and it rumbled, shaking the front windows. He didn't rev it or peel out of our driveway. It was a slow, dragged out crawl.

It was unusual for him, considering men in this family were known to kick up rocks and do several donuts as they left each other's houses. It was a silly, He-Man tradition.

But tonight, everyone—including Jasper, was on their best behavior and made their departure low-key and hushed.

I mentally counted off to be safe, _25, 26, 27, 28, 29…30…time's up._

Running up to the door, I looked out the peephole and scanned the dimly lit driveway. Everyone was gone. Tanya sat out there alone. Shutting off the outside lights, I locked the door and armed the high-tech house alarm.

There was a four digit pass code and a thumb print scan. It beeped and blinked red.

In all the three months we've lived here, this was the first time where I felt it was necessary to have that extra protection. There was an awful feeling in my gut, and I didn't know if it was from the residual of Edward's anger or Marcus' showing up in our home tonight, continuing to be nothing but a cancer in our lives, or Jasper's stern warning to stand-down.

Or maybe it was everything.

This day went from shitty to amazing to fucking amazing to nothing but a steaming pile of shit again.

The one silver lining of the failed surprise engagement party was the cake—which, I'd so effectively killed and squashed with my weight.

Climbing the stairs, one heavy leg at a time, I tried to decide whether to tell Edward tonight about the conversation with Jasper or wait until the morning when he was relaxed and well rested.

There were many upsides of telling him now, anger and rage, hot fucking sex, but then again, my old man was pushing thirty. I'd be worried about the added stress might up his blood pressure.

And an even smaller part of me, almost too tiny to recognize, didn't want to tell him at all.

He was already so infuriated with Jasper, more than I'd ever seen, and this would stir the pot, possibly prolonging the fight or worse case scenario, he ends up killing him. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Edward's possessive gut reaction and impulsive trigger finger would start a civil war, and I didn't want to be at odds with the family. They've done a lot for us in the past. I owed each one of them a great deal of gratitude and appreciation.

…_But _as all things go concerning my loyalty outside of Edward, it was short-lived and limited.

He was my life, my best friend, and I told him _everything_. There were no secrets or lies kept between us. We' were honest and straightforward with each other.

_Don't bullshit me, Kid._

That's the deal. I wasn't going to break our bond—_that _level of trust over Jasper, or anyone, for that matter.

Seven minutes and forty-three seconds has passed since Edward stormed out of the kitchen. I could sense the time ticking away in my head as I crept into the master bedroom. It was dark, my vision slowly adjusting to the narrow stream of light coming from the bathroom. The door was cracked open by a couple inches, and I could see Edward moving around inside.

I stopped, and took a deep, calming breath.

He always had this affect on me: a pounding heart, a fluttering in the stomach, and a racing, unsteady pulse. It didn't lessen with time. These feelings got stronger, more palpable with every second. There was this hyper-awareness of the way my body sought out his touches, his kisses, his words…_God_, it was his everything.

It made it difficult to function or think about anything else.

Smoothing out my shirt and fluffing up my hair, I put a shaky hand on the bathroom door and pushed it open.

Edward stood there in his boxer briefs, hung low on his hips, washing his face and arms in the sink. The water swirled a light pink. He didn't hear me come in, and this gave me a chance to stand back and stare at him. My eyes roamed over the tattoos on his back, intricate and meaningful in their design. There was a lot and each one of them made me dizzy, so I focused on my favorite. It was on the upper part of his back, just right between the shoulder blades.

_My last breath belongs to Kid._

That's mine, another claim on him, and it was forever inked into his skin.

"Did he fucking leave?"

Startled by his gruff voice, I stumbled back into the door and slammed it closed with a loud bang. He lowered the towel from his face and cocked his head to the side, watching me through the mirror. He was clearly amused by my skittish behavior.

"Are you all right?"

I'd been caught drooling over my man like an obsessive freak. There were no words to describe my embarrassment.

"Yeah, sure, totally fine," I said, mentally groaning at my idiocy.

Putting my arms around him, I hid my inflamed cheeks against his back. He felt hot to the touch, increasing my own heat. It was uncomfortable, but alluring, and I closed my eyes, falling deeper into him.

He smelled of smoke and peppermint, with the faintest scent of Ivory soap. I was lost and transfixed in the thumping of his heart, _badum bump, badum bump, badum bump_. Each one of his breaths, in and out, slow and steady, relaxed me.

"What's wrong?" His tone was wary—_observant_, and I hated how well he could read me.

I sighed…hesitating, suddenly overwhelmed with ambivalence.

A storm was brewing. I could _feel_ it deep in my bones.

The sane, occasionally rational Bella, the Angel, wanted a moment of calm. One night to be with my fiancé before the black cloud of chaos and destruction known as Marcus descended upon us. While the Devil in me, equally as opinionated, wanted to take advantage of Edward's unstable anger and rat out Jazz, based solely on her own selfish and lustful urges.

I fought with myself, eventually deciding on the calm, but Edward knew something was wrong and I didn't want to flat-out lie to him.

In my haste to deflect a sliver of truth, I ended up rambling out the most trivial portion of the conversation downstairs...well; it was more of a footnote, really.

"Do you think I'm dangerous?" It was an ironic question, considering my voice was small, quiet, and sounding like a little girl.

"After seeing what you did to Renee today?" I could hear his proud smile. "Yeah, baby, you're fucking deadly."

"Jasper doesn't seem to think so." My hands slid up his body to grip his shoulders, I rose to my tippy-toes and kissed the tattoo. "He thinks I'm innocent and you're the one making me do all these things."

Edward scoffed. "Okay."

All the head pats and cheek pinches came flooding back to me. I was the baby of the group. It was understandable with them all having ten years or more on me, but the innocent teases were turning into condescension.

I dropped back down to my feet and hugged his waist. "I'll always be just some kid to them."

"You're my Kid."

I rolled my eyes, even if he couldn't see it. "You know what I mean."

"Let them believe what they want," he said with a shrug, covering my hands with his own and interweaving our fingers. "It doesn't matter."

"You don't mind that they think you're this controlling asshole and I'm just some weak, love struck girl who follows you around and doesn't know any better?"

Jasper's skewed and narrow-minded take on my relationship with Edward was what irritated me the most. He made it sound like I was this battered and abused girl, forced to lie, steal, and kill because the man I'd been so deeply consumed with demanded it of me.

I was just as much as a participant in our crimes as Edward was.

Everything we did and still do was a ping-pong effect, just two maniacs bouncing off each other.

"I don't give a shit. It just means while they're all busy watching out for me, you can sneak up behind them and slit their fucking throats."

I bit my lip, combating a smile. "You just won't let the knife thing go, will you?"

"Nope, not a fucking chance," he said, untangling himself from my close hold and turning around in the compromised space to face me. "That's going to be your weapon now."

"Hmm, well, speaking of knives…" I started to say, but my focus was sidelined by his intense gaze. All or any intelligent thought went out the window.

"What about it?" he said, settling his hands on my hips. He bent down and skimmed his nose along my jaw and neck, fully breathing me in.

My head lolling to the side to give his lips better access to drive me crazy, I panted out the rest of my sentence, "…when will I be getting mine back?"

"You're not," he said, curling his fingers into the belt loop of my jeans and jerking me into him with one harsh pull. "It's mine—and that shit isn't open for discussion."

Edward was nothing if not sentimental.

Reaching back, I clutched the edge of the counter for support. All of his biting and sucking on my neck and shoulders were making my knees give out. I was wobbling like a baby deer, unable to keep myself upright.

Edward huffed and pulled away from me, all too sudden for my liking.

I blinked up at him, somewhat dazed. "What's wrong?"

He was staring back at me, his brows drawled in with a slight downturn of his bottom lip. "Why are you still dressed?"

I laughed, raising my arms. "I have no idea."

Edward took off my shirt and added it to the crumpled pile in the corner. He slid his hands down my back with ease. The light, wispy touch of his fingers sent shivers down my spine and throughout my body. Unhooking the clasp of my bra, he pulled it off me and dropped the tattered lace to the floor.

Exposed and completely vulnerable to him, I held my breath. My nipples painfully hard and eagerly anticipating the moment he puts his mouth on them.

"What the fuck is that?"

My eyes darted open. "What's what?"

"That thing on your arm," Edward said, spinning me back towards the mirror. "How the fuck did you get it?"

The once spotty blemish had morphed into to a deep bruise, an unsightly shade of purple.

"I…" my voice waned and faltered, my attention being diverted by the blood streak fingerprints across my breasts and stomach.

It was shocking and perverse, but the way it resembled war paint or a convoluted tattoo carved into my flesh fascinated me. My thoughts consumed with countless images of the desert, Edward poised between my legs with the smoldering sun on his back, thrusting and shoving into me deeper, my screams loud and getting lost in the vast wasteland. The dirt and blood sticking to our sweat soaked bodies as we rolled around and fucked in it.

The lust and need of our desires strong, overshadowing what was left of our conscience.

It provoked the darkness, turning me on to an insane degree, and it was perpetuated by his unwavering glare. He was pissed, squeezing me tighter with every second that passed with my silence. I decided to stop fighting against what I wanted, allowing that loud and insistent Devil to push my Angel aside and come out to play.

The body count was going to rise based on these next three words...

"Jasper grabbed me."

"Jasper did this," Edward said with a nod, and it wasn't a question.

I think he knew who did it even before I said it, but he didn't want it to be true. Maybe I should've lied and told him that I hit a door frame or something…although, it would be hard to explain the finger-shaped bruise.

"Yeah, he was trying to talk to me and I walked away and…" I trailed off, watching his reaction through the mirror.

Edward was livid, but his eyes spoke betrayal, a deep, sad betrayal, and it went beyond his best friend '_accidently_' getting grabby with his girl.

"Fuck!" He pressed his forehead against the back of my head. "Why is he pushing me?"

"He wants you to stop."

"Stop?" The word was foreign on his tongue, a non-option when it came to Edward. "Stop what?"

"Stop with_ your_ plans to kill Marcus," I said, bitterly emphasizing that one word.

Edward's head snapped up. "Jasper said that shit?"

"Yeah," I said, pushing back from the counter and repositioning myself in front of him. He lifted his arms and draped them over my shoulders. "Jazz said if we didn't stop, things weren't going to end well for us."

"And what did you tell him?"

Giving him a defiant scowl, I reached up and yanked down on his nipple piercings. It was an appropriate response to such a stupid question.

"Oww, _fuuuuuuuuck_ me, woman!" He yelled, restraining me at the wrists and pinning them to my sides. "You need to stop with that shit, it fucking hurts."

"I'm not a snitch, Cullen."

"No, you're just a fucking pain in my ass, Swan," he said, pulling my hands up and crossing them over my chest, creating his own makeshift strait jacket. "Not to mention bat-shit crazy."

He'd just crossed the line. That word was off limits.

"I told you not to fucking call me that!" I glared, struggling to pull my arms back down and free myself, but he easily overpowered me. "I'm not crazy, Edward."

Gazing down at my breasts as they rose and fell, he licked his lips and smirked. "Yes, you are."

He was baiting me—and fuck me for being this easy, but I fell right into his trap.

"Quit being a dick," I said, thrashing and throwing my body into him with more gusto, "and let go of me!"

Edward stopped my valiant fight by squeezing my wrists and yanking me forward into his chest. He bent down, his hot breath on my neck, and whispered. "Fuck you."

Then like a bomb, all of our pent up sexual tension exploded and we fucking attacked each other.

Our bodies collided, lips and hands, grabbing and clawing. I was pulling at the waistband of Edward's boxer briefs and pushing them down. He had two fistfuls of my hair, tugging at the strands and forcing his mouth deeper into mine, taking my last breath of protest and smothered it with his kiss. It was madness, chaotic and hectic.

My heart was racing, but with a steady grip, I took a hold of Edward's hardened length, moving up and down, twisting my wrist from base to tip. I spread the pre-cum that trickled from the head with my thumb. Edward groaned, a violent jerk of his body, and broke away from my kiss.

He thrusted into my hand, increasing my easy tempo, going faster and faster, moaning and panting in such a way that made my pussy throb. I doubled my efforts with intent to drive him over the edge and coming all over me. On my way up, palming the head, I took the silver ball of apadravya between my thumb and index finger and pulled up on it, eliciting a loud 'fuck' from Edward.

Pulling away and yanking his dick out of my grasp, he took me by the hips and lifted me up to the counter. Keeping a firm and tight hold on my neck with one hand, he pushed me back against the mirror and clawed at the button my jeans. Ripping and tearing the silver fasten from its seams; Edward yanked the tight denim down my legs, a sense of urgency and frenzied need to be inside me.

Reaching down to remove that last barrier that separated us, he sucked in a staggered breath when he encountered skin. "Jesus, baby, no panties," he thrusted two fingers into me, so forceful and deep, "all fucking day?" sliding them in and out, over and over, unrelenting and mad.

I moaned, begging him not to stop, my hands flying up and clinging to his shoulders. The sensations of not being touched this way by him for nearly five days and all the fucking foreplay was overwhelming and commanding. I was swollen, needy, highly sensitive, and the rough friction of his knuckles rubbing against my clit and the outer ridges of my entrance with every slip and thrust of his fingers inside of me was my undoing. It came fast, unarming me with its crimpling strength, and I felt my inner muscles start to spasm, squeezing and tightening around him...

"Nope," Edward said, pulling back and withdrawing his finger. He grabbed my hips and jerked me to the edge of the counter. "Fuck that shit, baby, not yet."

Shoving my trembling thighs apart, Edward licked his palm and stroked his cock. I watched him, my breathing coming out in jagged gasps, as he held the base, directing and gliding the head along the inner lips of my pussy. I was wet, arousal and finger-fucking making me nice and ready for him. He slapped my clit, giving me a playful, cocky wink, before lining himself up and ramming inside. He hit me deep, and we both moaned, relishing in the feel of coming together like this after so long.

He bent his head down, still thrusting into me, and kissed along my breasts, sucking and biting on my nipples. I cried out, and he trailed his tongue up, along my collar bone and neck, all the up to my mouth, chewing and pulling on my bottom lip before finishing me off with a kiss.

I tried to breathe as he fucked and kissed me, my chest heaving and hurting. He held me by the throat, constricting more air into my lungs, plunging his cock into me, so hard and so deep. I tried to hold on, my fingers in his hair and legs wrapped around his hips, as he drove into me with unyielding force, over and over again. He was feverish and vindictive in his thrusts, sliding in and out, his thighs hitting the counter's edge.

It was tender and aggressive, pleasure and pain, hot and cold, a complete contradiction of sensations and it was pulling me down.

"Fuck!" He growled, a harsh twitch and throbbing of his cock told me he was close. He slowed down; warding himself off, but I wouldn't allow it.

"Don't…just, please…" I whimpered, digging my heels into his ass and pushing him forward.

Complying with my demands, he brought his lips back up to mine and forced his tongue into my mouth. He grabbed my hips, his fingers jabbing into my skin, drawing blood, and leaving another mark. He thrusted and plunged his cock into me, harder and faster than the last, fucking me into a fit of cries that echoed off the walls in the tight space of the bathroom.

Edward cursed loudly, burying his face into the curve of my neck and gently, but firmly, suck his teeth into my skin. I shuddered and whimpered, my muscles contracted and tensed around his cock. A shrill ripple of a wave, overload of tingling and prickling sensations, coursed through me. It was instant, leaving me a shivering and panting mess, slumping out of his hold.

Giving several more jerky and rough thrusts, Edward cursed with a grunt into my ear as he came. His cock jerking violently inside of me, he rode out his orgasm with slow and steady pushes, until he finally came to a stop. He collapsed, pressing all his weight into my chest and pushing me back.

Edward's anger, my need, the endless murder and chaos that surrounded us, combined with our joint insanity created one demented and explosive fuck.

We were spent and tired, our breathing collectively ragged. I didn't want to move from this spot with his dick still burrowed inside me, but the shower was calling, and suddenly I felt dirty.

Edward felt me try move from underneath him, and in a panic, squeezed my thighs to hold me still. "Where ya going?"

"I need a shower, baby." I wrapped my arms around his back and smiled. "You're welcome to join me, if ya like."

Taking me up on my offer, he threw me over his shoulder and smacked my ass. I was under the hot spray with Edward's mouth and hands on me within a second flat.

**(0)(0)(0)**

"So I've been thinking," Edward said, smearing frosting and cake across my stomach, eating it and sucking at the skin.

After getting clean and well fucked, he went downstairs to collect our three-tier vanilla frosting and chocolate cake for the belated celebration. What started off innocent dessert with plates and spoons had turned into something more sexual. He'd been eating it off me for twenty minutes now. Kissing and licking the skin until all traces of sugar were gone. He'd started with my mouth and has been working his way down ever since.

It was fucking fantastic.

"Oh, yeah," I said, gripping the bed sheets and struggling to keep my breathing under control, "about what?"

Edward scooted up in the bed, leaning over to our side table where the cake was and got a huge spoonful to feed to me. "About how we're going to kill Marcus."

It'd been six months since we broke out of jail and fled the country. All those days and weeks, Edward been plotting to kill Marcus, but with his power and wealth, it wasn't going to be as simple as putting a bullet in his head. If we ever got that close to do so, there would be retaliation, and it wouldn't stop at just Edward and me. Our whole family would be taken out, and at the time, it wasn't a risk we were willing to take.

"What? Really? How?" I sat up on my elbows, swallowing the delectable piece down and opening my mouth for another. Edward was more than happy to oblige me. He scooped up a generous helping and followed it with his mouth, licking the remnants of the frosting off my bottom lip.

"Mmm, just like a fucking cupcake," he said, and without another word, he pushed me back down on the bed. He put another small slice on my left breast and devoured it. I squirmed, and he held me down with his hands on my shoulders, sucking on my nipple and flicking it with the tip his tongue. Coming back up for air, he set his chin on my chest and sighed. "When are you to get these delicious things pierced?"

I let out an exasperated laugh, partly because he was easily distracted and I was close to combusting. "Jesus, you have me on the edge with that mouth of yours…ugh, I don't know. Someday soon, Edward, okay?"

"It won't hurt," he said, twisting my nipple. My arousal escaped from my lips with a gasp. He smirked, knowing he'd won. "Come on, baby, we can do it tomorrow. It'll be fun."

"You're killing me," I said, but he didn't stop the torture. No, the motherfucker upped his game.

"And maybe…" moving down to edge of the bed, he pushed my knees apart and settled his shoulders between my thighs, "you can get one here…" His voice was rough, strained, as he ran his fingers up and down my slit, occasionally pinching the outer side of my lips.

"Jesus," I said, closing my eyes tight.

Edward started off slow, flicking my clit with his tongue. He then progressed to sucking my each one of my lips into his mouth. I scooted down in the bed, wanting him closer, the lack of pressure and tender kisses with his mouth driving me to the point of madness.

I was needy and ridiculous.

He plunged his tongue inside. My legs clamped around him and I grabbed a handful of his hair. He added two fingers, curling and wiggling them around. He touched every inch of me. He was picking up the pace, in and out. It was frantic, his tongue gentle on my and his finger rough in my pussy, slipping and jamming into me, going deeper and harder than before.

I could feel the tug in my stomach as the tingling got stronger. My thighs trembled and my breathing got fast. I cried and panted. Shook and pleaded. I clutched his hair, the crumpled bed sheets, or anything close to me, transferring the energy that rocked through me as I came.

When Edward was done, he slipped his fingers out me and bit my clit, before crawling on top of me and crashing his lips to mine. I could taste myself on his tongue as it swirled with mine. He pulled away and replaced his lips with his fingers, gently putting them into my mouth. He watched my lips wrap around them. My tongue lapping between his fingers and sucking each one clean. It turned him on. I could see it in his dark and depraved eyes.

"Damn, baby," he said, slowly pulling them out of my mouth. "Where did you come from?"

"Washington," I said, scrunching up my brows. "Forks, I think."

He laughed. "That's not what I mean."

"I know," I said, tracing the crazy on my Bella tattoo. "It's like, a million cars to steal in this world and somehow I stumbled across yours."

"I would've shot anybody else."

"Oh, I know, Edward. Trust me." I shook my head, chuckling. "If you think about it, Phil and Renee really had a hand in our meeting. If they were decent people, I might have never run away from home."

The reality of never being in Edward's life scared me. He was my life.

"Well," Edward caressed the side of my face, seeing the terror in my eyes, "I'm glad they were pieces of shit then."

"Maybe instead of killing them, we should've given them a thank you card..." I said, a slight smirk on my lips, "or an invite to the wedding."

All joking gone now, Edward's eyes tightened. "Even if I'm fucking grateful to have you here—fucking in my arms and shit, I'll never excuse them for the pain they caused you. Nobody hurts you and fucking gets away with it." He gently stroked the bruise on my arm. "I don't give a shit how minor the offense is."

"Even it's your best friend?"

"_Especially _if it's my best friend," he said, dropping his head to my chest. "Shit, this is so fucked up. I didn't want to believe it, baby, but I can't ignore the fucking signs. Everything he's done since the beginning of our trip to Juarez just proves it."

"Proves what?" I asked, idly running my fingers through his hair.

He wrapped his arms around my body and held on to me like an anchor. "The family is with Marcus now."

"What?!" I shot up in the bed, only to be pushed back down by Edward. "Are you…are you serious?"

"Yeah, I wasn't a hundred percent sure at first, but Jasper kept on asking all these fucking questions about Marcus. Like if I had a plan to take him out." Edward hugged me tight to his body and kissed me along my ribcage, ensuring I was there with him. "I told him if I plan to kill the asshole, he'll be the first one to know."

"But Jasper is like that, baby." He was known to ask question and make sure everyone was playing by the rules. "It doesn't prove he's switched sides."

"Yeah, I know, it doesn't, but the party does." He groaned, lifting his head up and locking eyes with me. "No outsiders, Bella. They know that."

"So the party was staged?" My heart was broken.

"They wanted to see how I would react to Marcus being here. Believe me, baby, I tried to keep my cool, but they to put the one thing I've fucking can't live without in danger." He burrowed his face back into my body, shaking his head and mumbling against my skin. "I can't—I fucking _won't_ tolerate that shit."

All of his quick temperament tonight made sense. Even when we were burning Renee and Phil, I knew something was up with him, but I didn't know what.

We were on our own, more so than ever now.

"Then what do we do, Edward? If our family is on Marcus side, how do you plan to kill him?"

"That's easy," Edward said, unwrapping himself and scooted up in the bed beside me. "When I was in Juarez with Jazz, we stopped at a bar to have a drink before we left. There were a couple of guys in the corner talking Spanish…which you know, Jasper doesn't speak."

"He needs to _Rosetta Stone _that shit."

"Exactly!" Edward laughed, palming my face and kissing me on the lips. "Anyway, they were discussing this successful dealer in Rocky Point."

"Juan…" I said, pulling the name out of my foggy memory bank, "right?"

"Yeah, and apparently he's a fucking a moron, but no one can do shit about it because this asshole is like royalty. He's the cousin to this guy named Aro and is off limits. Even Marcus won't touch him."

"And you want us to kill Juan?"

"I don't want to just kill him, Bella. I want to take his drugs and pin everything on Marcus."

Kicking the sheets off my feet, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and sat there, digesting his words.

Edward noticing my skepticism, gripped my hips and tugging me back down into the bed with him. "Don't worry, baby. Trust me, it'll work."

"How?"

"Everyone knows how Marcus is acquiring all his money and drugs, and it's not because he's a hard worker. He's a fucking thief, but he's smart. We've haven't killed anyone that big time. This guy Juan will start a fucking war."

"But won't we be caught up in it? They'll know we were the ones who killed him."

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not, but whether we're in the front lines of the war is not the point."

"What is the point?"

"We kill that fucker Marcus. We shoot the asshole right between the eyes and people will assume it was in retaliation for Juan's death. It's fucking clean."

"And highly dangerous," I added. He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the prospect. "What do we do with Juan's drugs if we're not handing them over to Marcus?"

"We keep it until all this shit blows over."

"And you're sure this will work?"

"It's the best chance we got at survival. Marcus will kill us when we don't serve a purpose to him anymore."

I put my head in my hands. "This is so fucked up."

"We're dead if we don't do anything."

"What about our family?" I asked, peeking over at him through my fingers.

"Collateral damage." He glanced around the room and groaned. "Fuck! We need to move, baby. It's not safe here."

"So that's why you confiscated their keys," I said, bumping shoulders with him.

"No, not exactly," he said, gripping my thigh and slowly easing his hand upwards. "I was just fucking horny as shit and Jasper pissed me off by interrupting us."

I nodded, remembering how sexually wound-up and frustrated we both were."So I guess this means we're going to be moving into the Plan B safe house, huh?"

His returning smile was smug. "And you said we wouldn't need it."

**A/N: Hey! I know it's been forever, and my sincerest apologies. It took me three weeks to write this. I wasn't sitting on it. I promise. But it's here, and if you are too, I want to say thank you! I'm hoping to get back on schedule with Friday updates. Hope you like the choppy, and I pray it was worth the wait. See ya soon. Xoxoxo!**

**Thank you to Brina for riding my ass on this choppy…You're forever the best person in this world! **


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